


wine, blood

by rottenstrawberrymilk



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/M, Ice Truck Killer, Murder, NSFW, Reader-Insert, Secret Identity, Serial Killers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk
Summary: brian moser x reader nsfw
Relationships: Brian Moser/You, Rudy Cooper/You, brian moser/reader, rudy cooper/reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	wine, blood

"Oh come on, Rudy," you pleaded, hanging on his shoulder. "It'll just be for the night. Just one little night..." Your arms were tight around his neck, looped together with your fingers intertwined. Your breath was hot against his skin--if only he could have felt something then. He would have greatly enjoyed it. 

Rudy let out a light scoff, swirling the watered down alcohol in his cup with light, but revealingly pensive motions. 

"It'll only be a few hours," you slurred out. "It's already, like, twelve. You won't even know I was there, shhhh..."

"If you're staying the night at my place," Rudy suddenly said, turning his head to give you a glance from the side of his darkened eyes, "I'll want it to _feel_ like you were there..." 

You shrugged slightly, completely missing the tone in his voice as his hand reached up to your cheek and settled firmly against your jawline. The tips of his cold fingers traced down your skin. "Whatever you want, Rudy. I'm too drunk to drive, s-sooooo guess it's up to you anyways." 

Your arms slid from his shoulders, unlocking and releasing him. Rudy still hadn't given an answer and god dammit you were gonna hide the hurt with another drink. Rudy watched you saunter off back to the bar, straight through the dance floor to the dismay of other drunken dancers who yelled words that didn't quite land on your ears. Rudy pursed his lips for a moment in thought. He was somewhat of a heavy weight. The drinks you had been pushing on him the whole night weren't doing much. He was always rather quick to start sobering up. 

He had somewhat of an idea of what he wanted to do to you. He _wanted_ you over at his apartment. He wanted you over to his secret place--your final resting place--where he could do whatever he wanted whether or not you wanted it. No consequences. Pure privacy. Pure bliss. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a bit of a throaty, strained sigh behind closed lips. It was drowned out by the blaring music that he passionately and secretly despised. But he'd tolerate it. He'd tolerate this for his pet project. 

Eventually when he noticed you on your third shot, Rudy decided to call it for the night. 

"Let's get out of here, baby," he murmured to you. 

"...don't wanna..." was what he managed to decipher from your mumble before you put your arms on the bar and buried your face into them in a childlike manner. You let out a huff loud enough for Rudy to clearly hear. 

He leaned down closer to you, wedging himself between you and the partygoer to your left. "You can sleep with me in my apartment..."

"Sleep with you or sleep with you?" you asked, lifting your head from your arms, making your interest obvious.

Rudy slyly smiled. "Whatever you want."

You turned the shot glass upside down, smacking it down onto the table as you stood up suddenly. You went blind for a few hot seconds as Rudy wrapped an arm around you, holding you up straighter. If God had mercy on him, maybe he'd be able to get you out without any interference. Then again, if God even saw 'Rudy' after all he had done, Rudy would be surprised. He'd been bad alright.

It was a matter of minutes and some stumbling before the humid night air pressed his shirt and warmed his skin. You did little to protest his aid, which Rudy found strange, as normally you became difficult when you had about six recent drinks in you. He was guessing that meant you were currently on drink seven or eight. He caught a few giggles between your mumbles and incoherent ramblings. The night was wearing on him and his patience was thinning. He hoped you wouldn't be like this when you got to his apartment--all talkative and loud. Or even worse, on the brief car ride over. 

It thankfully didn't take him long to get you strapped in the passenger seat. As he ducked into the driver's side of the car, he wondered if he had made a mistake in putting you there. All the sudden, having you in the back of the car seemed more appealing. However, as he drove your talkativeness seemed to suddenly ceased. Rudy's hand unconsciously drifted to your inner thigh as he kept his other hand on the wheel.

Your wandering fingers found the zipper on his pants and like hell he was gonna stop you. You leaned over farther, straining the seatbelt. As your head dipped lower you pulled at the zipper. His hand left your thigh and went over your hand, stopping you. He could smell the alcohol on you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you-" started Rudy.

"Shut up, I wanna," was your only response. 

Rudy's hand, somehow cold again, lingered over your own before moving back to your inner thigh, massaging it slightly. A soft groan rose in his throat after you undid the zipper and your lips touched him. His grip tightened on the wheel, his knuckles growing white. 

* * *

It almost sounded like someone was trying to break into Rudy Cooper's apartment from the amount of banging and noise coming from outside the door--like a body being slammed into it. Keys fumbling for an extended period of time and your moans sounded before the door sprang open. Rudy kicked the door shut behind him, his arms tight around you. Something strange was spurring him on. Like the feeling time was running out, like the feeling his heart would burst. Your fingers pressed at his hips, trying to get once again into his pants. 

In a world where he always seemed to be dominant, this was a fresh change. 

"Bedroom," you gasped out as he continued to kiss you, his lips drowning out your words. He moved his affections to the corner of your lips and down to your jawline. "Where's the fucking bedroom-"

His mouth was at your ear, his breath hot on your skin, already damp from humidity and excitement. "Down the hallway. On your right. I'll be right there." Rudy let his hand wander farther down your back, giving you a soft squeeze before kissing you once more. 

You broke away from him, almost regretfully. You trusted he had something planned for you tonight and damn did you want every bit of it. Maybe it was the alcohol addled thoughts running through your head that made you so willing, made you want him so badly tonight. Continuing onto your boyfriend’s bedroom, you found that your head seemed to clear just a little bit. You pushed open the door and started to unbutton your shirt. 

Glass clinking together drew your attention and you seemed to completely forget about the buttons. You turned your head to see Rudy slink into the room after you, two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. He kicked the door shut and the slam resonating from the sheer force of him sent chills down your spine. He dumped the glasses on the nightstand, wrapping his arms around you as his lips met your neck. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, your nails flashing with the neon colors Rudy had painted them months ago. 

Rose pink.

Bright yellow.

Deep purple.

Burning orange. 

Lime green. 

The pattern had been hypnotic to you when he had first asked to paint your nails. You let him continue to redo your nails throughout the months and sleepless, needy nights littering your relationship with Rudy. The colors were for you, you liked to think. All for you. A strange thing to get attached to, but one of the most concrete things in the relationship. 

Rudy’s hands worked at the rest of the buttons on your silk shirt, peeling it from your body and discarding it onto the floor. His arms crossed over your torso, over your chest, like an X, pulling you close and tight to him. His breath was loud, yet slightly muffled against your damp skin as he kissed it again and again, like he’d never get enough, like he’d never be sated. 

Passion burned in you, deep in you, inexplainable and powerful as usual, spurred on by the tequila from hours before. Wryly, you untangled yourself from his arms, leaning back onto the bed, stretching your arms above your head. Rudy pounced then, one of his hands pinning your hands to the sheets. A bit of a squeak escaped you at the sudden contact—anything but gentle and loving. No, this was raw. The actions of a monster trapped in a man.

“ _Scared?”_ he whispered into your ear, only adding fuel to the fire in your core. The hairs on the back of your neck raised with the chill running through your body once again.

“I could never be scared of you,” you replied, you’re lips inches from his.

He chuckled, his dark eyes holding yours. “Oh baby,” he told you, “you _should be_.”

Rudy claimed your lips as his once again, gruff moans coming from his throat, mixing with your softer, less shameless ones. He pushed the shorts from your legs and you kicked them off to the ground, feeling his fingertips trace back up your thighs and to the sides of your undergarment. He pushed an index finger under the silk, swallowing the noises from you whole, like he was feeding off of the whimpers of impatience coming from you. His hand left your wrist, releasing them from the sheets as he worked under your back to undo your bra. It took him seconds. He was familiar with it all. A shaking sigh escaped from your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

For a moment, Rudy sat up on top of you. He reached over to the night stand, pulling the wine bottle over, leaving the glasses abandoned. He tipped the bottle up drinking straight from it. Holding it to your side, he leaned down to kiss you again, the red alcohol tempting on your lips. You reached over, taking the bottle from the sheets and downing some of it yourself. Before you had so much as a gulp or two, Rudy tore the bottle from your grip.

“What are you-“ you began to murmur out as Rudy tipped the bottle downwards. The cold liquid silenced you, the only noise coming out of your lips afterwards being a mere gasp. This was new.

Wine dripped down the middle of your body, between your breasts, all the way down to your panties, where it soaked slightly. You didn’t fucking care. Rudy’s head dipped and his tongue dragged along your skin, lapping up every drop of wine. His eyes shut with pure bliss, and yours soon followed as his tongue went lower and lower down your body, heating up every patch of skin it touched. 

“Rudy...” you whispered through lips glossy with wine as he stopped, right at your inner thigh. He shifted back upwards on top of you so that he was even with you once again, You could feel his arousal stiff against your leg and you bit the inside of your cheek.  
  
He reached an arm far over to the left, supporting his lithely muscled body, as his thumb went to your chin and his index finger pressed to your skin. Your hand found his red shirt and clenched around the silky material, holding him ever so closer as he leaned in. Rudy’s lips hovered over yours for a moment and a bit of an impatient whine escaped you. He paused momentarily, his dark eyes meeting yours. His lips once again connected with yours after what felt like hours. They were cold, like his hands that reached up around your back and against your cheek, caressing over the skin slowly. Excitement thrummed within you as your hands went to his hips, fumbling at his belt and pushing at his slacks. Rudy seemed entertained by your frantic attempts. Still, he didn’t seem to mind helping you out a bit, shifting his body so you could pull down his slacks more. He only forced you stop at intervals as he kissed you, claiming your mouth and tongue for his own. 

Once again, he sat up taller, wrapping his arms under your back. Your hands fell away from him and you let yourself completely relax, trustingly, into his grasp. A smile, a genuine one, spread over his beauty-marked face, and his dark curls seemed to cover his eyes as he leaned down, pressing slow kisses to your chest. 

“I love your body,” he murmured out as a blush fell over your cheeks,

He continued to hold you in one arm before reaching the other one downwards to your thigh. He gripped it tightly, spurred on by the light gasp that escaped you. He pulled your leg up, his finger tips pushing tightly against your skin as his thumb stroked over it. 

“I love your body,” he repeated again. 

Stumbling over your words, you attempted a clever reply through your tipsy haze. “I-I don’t know how to respond to that.” 

You let out a yelp as he suddenly spread and flattened your leg to the bed. “If you don’t know how then you’re not convinced. So let me love it, baby. Let me show you how much I _adore_ you.” His other hand eased your back back down to the sheets and went to your other, slightly trembling leg. 

His body shifted downwards. He left a trail of sharp, breathless kisses down your abdomen. You could feel the heat of his breath between your thighs and you bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. The hand that had just left the small of your back gently pushed your leg open and into the mattress. You couldn’t see Rudy’s face, just the dark curls crowning his head. He pulled your underwear down slowly, tauntingly slow and you let out a quiet plead. For him. You withdrew a shaking breath as he pressed a kiss to your sensitive inner thighs.

It was a matter of seconds before you felt his lips further against you and then—thank God—his tongue. Your fingers curled into the sheets tightly as you let your head fall back and shut your eyes. You didn’t think he was going to repay your favor to him just a few minutes earlier in his car. It was only when your breath became shaky and you seemed to lose control over violent twitches and spasms and moans did Rudy get rougher, pinning your legs harder against the bed, keeping them open for himself. A long drag of his tongue forced a borderline scream from your lips. He continued on slow, letting the pleasure, the cold euphoria build.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. In a quick, aggressive gesture, you released the sheets and brought your clammy, shaking hands to the back of Rudy’s head. Your fingers tangled into his dark hair, pulling at it slightly, and scratching over his scalp. A groan escaped him and you swore on God you felt every note, every pitch in it. You pushed his head up against you suddenly and pushed your head back into the bed, your grip tightening even more as Rudy brought you to the climax you’d been waiting for.

Still shaking, you held onto his hair, gasping for air. Rudy suddenly brushed his tongue over you again and you let out a scream.

“You son of a bitch!” you gasped out, pulling at his hair.

He lifted his head with a smile, swiping his tongue over his lips. “Couldn’t help it,” he said with a shrug, tilting his head to the side as you let go of his locks. He gave your thighs a soft squeeze before creeping up to join you evenly on the bed, wrapping his arms around you once again. 

Rudy pushed his head against yours affectionately, tracing his fingers over your arm. He leaned in closely and gently kissed your collarbone, trailing up your neck.

”Mm,” he said between soft kisses. “You’re perfect.”

You just let out a slight giggle as a response. He stopped suddenly and stared at you. 

“Why do you do that?”

”Do what?” you asked, although you knew full well he was referring to your awkwardness.

”I don’t know it’s like...it’s like you don’t know how to take a compliment. In a sad way,” Rudy replies, clearly still searching for more words to get his point across.

Once again you laughed it off, and shrugged your shoulders slightly. The gesture didn’t escape Rudy as he continued to push at the topic.

He seemed almost confused. “There you go again. It’s like you don’t know how to be loved...” 

* * *

When you slowly woke up in the morning, Rudy's arms were gone from your body and his back was facing yours. You swallowed a bit dryly, shifting the sheets off of your body. For a minute, you simply stood there in the dark. You checked the clock, realizing it was about four in the morning. 

Rubbing at your eyes, you crept out of the room, feeling along the walls and such as you made your way to the kitchen (which you had gotten a glimpse of while Rudy had you pinned against the wall with his tongue down your throat). You quietly poked around the cabinets until you managed to find a cup. You filled it with water from the tap and took a drink, your eyes still bleary and your mind still fuzzy.

Holding the drink in your hand, you moved from the kitchen, finding yourself curious as to what you hadn't seen in Rudy's apartment. It was a bit hard to see and you didn't want to turn any lights on, but outside already seemed to be getting lighter (fucking Florida...) and the windows gave you just enough to work with. 

As you wandered, you found something shiny catching your eye. Upon drawing closer you saw that it was a metal door, just near the entrance of the apartment, but past the dent you'd left in the hall. Out of curiosity, you touched the door and flinched, pulling away quickly. It was ice cold. You shifted your attention to the dent in the wall.

_Did he really slam me up against it that hard? I'm not even sore..._

You pushed your hand against it and the wall seemed to give away more. Softly, it cracked, giving away to a hollow pocket. Your brows furrowed as you leaned down a bit and stretched your hand further in. Your fingertips brushed against the edge of a box and you fumbled for a second before pulling it out of the hole in the wall. 

It was small and made of cardboard, untouched. Without even really thinking, you popped open the lid. There was nothing inside but a small newspaper clipping. You felt disappointed for a few moment, pursing your lips before taking a closer look when a name, printed in faded black ink caught your eye. You held the box up closer.

An obituary. On it was the name "Rudolph Cooper". There was no photo anywhere on the obituary, just a short summary about some guy from New Jersey and a date of death, 1998. You blinked for a few seconds, slowly, processing before your heart dropped to your stomach. A chill ran through your body and you quickly shut the lid on the box and shoved it back into the wall. 

_My boyfriend's a fucking stranger. My boyfriend's some_ dead _guy from_ New Jersey. 

Frantically, you fumbled with the wall you had pushed back and in. You managed to pull it out a big enough piece to make it look relatively normal--not enough to draw any attention to it. It was like your heart was beating at a million miles per hour as you made your way back to the bedroom, snatched your clothes and made a beeline back for the hallway. You pulled your shirt back on as you passed the kitchen and noticed Rudy's car keys on kitchen counter. Quickly, you grabbed them, holding them tightly in your fist as you opened the door and closed it softly. 

Two hours later Rudy found himself waking up. Although groggy, his mind already seemed to fill with memories of you, of your body. He'd found something special, alright. Something he wanted to delve deeper in, something to explore further until he was unsatisfied and moved on like he had so many times before. Rudy Cooper rolled over, expecting to see your (S/C) skin, contrasting against the sheets of his bed. But there was nothing. He reached over for a second, grasping at the sheets before sitting up. 

It wasn't like you to leave him before he woke up. He figured you were in the bathroom showering or something like that, since your clothes were gone as well. Rudy waited in bed for a few minutes, but didn't hear the sound of running water or the clicking of any lights. His brow furrowed and, a bit painstakingly, dragged himself out of bed. Rudy checked the bathroom and found no one. He bit the inside of his cheek as he checked the kitchen, finding it abandoned and his keys missing. He found himself standing up a bit straighter and the bliss of the earlier night quickly faded from his mind. He stood there for a good few second, his hand on the counter where his keys once were. He looked up and squinted at the hallway extending from the front door. 

Now, Rudy knew that your body had left a dent in it from the night before, but he couldn't help but draw nearer. It looked as though nails had been tearing at a piece of the wall a bit, like it had been sloppily yanked back up into place. 

Only one thought crossed his mind.

_She knows._

* * *

You had been dozing off on your couch, trying to sleep off your hangover and he horrific discovery you made, when all the sudden you heard a knock on your door. A knock you had been dreading for the entire day. You laid there on the couch for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not you should get up and answer. 

_Maybe this whole thing is a misunderstanding. He's called me like twenty times maybe I just made a mistake and he wants to talk it through._

Biting your bottom lip nervously, you got up off the couch and made your way, slowly, to the door. Your hand stayed on the handle for a second too long, and there was another harsh knock that made you flinch. You swallowed, took a breath, and cracked open the door.

When you saw your (possibly ex) boyfriend's face again, you seemed to suddenly forget about your plan to talk things through, and all you could do was stand there, absolutely silent as Rudy (or whoever he was) peered at you through the crack of the open door. The weak, rusting chain hanging in the crack, locking the door, gave you little comfort.

"What's going on?" he asked. "You're not answering my calls--you left without saying anything-"

You let out a nervous chuckle. "Ha. Yeah. I'm just-" you faked a yawn. "...so tired. Yeah, super tired. I shoulda left a note. See you later!" You went to slam the door shut and Rudy quickly worked an arm in through the door, grabbing your wrist. 

"(Y/N), you need to let me in," Rudy told you seriously, his eyes narrowing. 

You were quiet for a moment. "...Alright. Let me just...get the chain." Rudy's hand moved from your wrist and back outside, allowing you to gently shut the door. 

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, heart pounding in your chest the same way it had last night after you found the box. Your hand went to undo the chain, but for some reason you completely froze up. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, what now, fuck, fuck-_

"(Y/N)?" came Rudy's voice 

Panic overwhelmed you and you turned away from the door and instead went for the couch, grabbing your phone off the coffee table in front of it. You turned it on and started to dial 911. You would have finished if you weren't distracted when the door burst open, the cheap, rusty chain flying off. You shielded your face with your hands, the phone grasped tightly in your left.

Rudy stood in the doorway, looking flustered and beyond pissed. He stormed over to you, grabbing your wrists. He wrestled the phone from your hand. "You were going to call the _police_? After all we _did_ , after all I _said_ to you last night, after how _perfect_ I told you you were to me, baby?"

You attempted to struggle out of his grip. You ripped away from him just as he tossed the phone to the other side of the room, far away from you. 

"You're not Rudy Cooper," you blurted out, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, shrinking away from him.

He paused, as though he was processing what you had said, his dark curls messy. He let the moment drag on for too long before he looked at you, confusion clear on his face. "I'm sorry...I...hold on, _what?_ " he sputtered out. 

"I found the box."

"What box?" 

"The one with the obituary in it! Yeah, I fucking read it!" 

Rudy stared at you for a second before he gave a bit of a laugh. You stared at him as he came closer to you. His energy seemed much different and the tightness in your muscles left slightly. 

"Baby, I _am_ Rudy Cooper. I promise you. Rudy Cooper II, actually." He took a few steps closer and your arms left your chest, falling to your side. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But you wanted to believe him so badly. You needed to hear what you wanted. Rudy continued on. "I'm named after my father, who died in 1998. He was a plumber. He...he died in a freak car accident. Lost both his legs and bled out. I..." he took another shaky breath, "I had to watch the whole thing. I-"

"You don't have to say anything else. I'm sorry." You cut him off, unable to take anymore of what he was saying. "I-I jumped the gun, I guess I didn't read the whole thing through. I'm so sorry, Rudy." 

He took your hands in his and looked down at you, letting out a bit of a sigh. You opened your mouth again to continue your ramble, but Rudy's lips were on yours. His hands moved to the sides of your face as he pushed against you.

"Rudy, mmph-" You turned your head away slightly as he kissed the corner of your lips. Your hands went to his arms. "Rudy, th-the door."

“Get that ass into the bedroom and I’ll close it for you,” he murmured to you, twisting a strand of your hair around his finger. You quickly nodded and pulled away from him, his skin still strangely cold even after your contact.

As you walked to the bedroom, stripping off pieces of clothing as you went, leaving a trail of sorts, you couldn’t help but think. You didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right at the moment. But maybe he’d distract you. Maybe he’d plunge you into pure bliss again and you wanted it—anything so you wouldn’t have to, God forbid, think.

The door slammed and you barely even had time to get into the bed when Rudy appeared in the doorway of your bedroom. Without saying a word, he aggressively approached you, grabbing onto you and bringing you down onto the bed with him. You forced yourself to stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking-

His hands went to his belt buckle.

_This is fine. He’ll make me feel good again. He always does._

Just like you, Rudy stripped off articles of clothing, pinning you down to the sheets as he kissed you. Your hands crept over his shoulders and to his back. Rudy grabbed either one of your thighs, spreading them and locking them around his waist.

_Why does he always feel so cold?_

He held them there as he began his euphoric work. Soft moans escaped you and blended with his own as the Miami heat worked its magic and brought upon a pleasured sort of humid haze over your brain. He was slow at first, easing you into it until you begged for more. Your nails scratched over the expanse of his back as he became more aggressive. He swallowed your cries in rough kisses, biting at your lips and then at your throat, forcing your head upwards. The headboard of the bed banged against the wall and the springs of cheap bed creaked with each of his movements. 

You shamelessly cried out his name as the headboard smashed into the wall a few more times—the last times. Rudy let out a heavy sigh, letting your legs drop from his waist. His hands went to your waist as he held you close to him and rolled to his side. You gasped for breath, still trembling on the sheets in the aftershocks of the pleasure. 

No words needed to be spoken between you. Rudy’s hands found the small of your back and stayed there as you laid quietly, your cheek pressed into the pillow. You shut your eyes with a quiet sigh. Rudy watched you until you fell asleep. His thumb brushed over the skin of your shoulder before he crept out of the bed. 

Rudy had been to your apartment many times before. He knew it as well as his own. His hand trailed over the walls as he found the small kitchen and traced his fingers over the counter. He found the drawer, pulling out a large knife, barely used--probably even forgotten about as you weren't much of a home cook. He turned away and snuck back to the bedroom, finding himself stopping just at your bedside, looming over you.

Rudy raised that knife. Soft breaths stirred your chest. He caught a glance of his own eyes, dilated unusually. He hesitated for a moment. You shifted over to your other side. The dilation wasn't just from the usual thrill of killing--he was sure. It was more...want. Attraction. He chewed the inside of his cheek before letting out a defeated sigh. He made his way to his sided of the bed and quickly opened a drawer and shoved the knife inside when you began to stir more violently, indicating you were about to wake up. As your eyes opened, Rudy slid back into bed, under the covers, but not quite fast enough to make it look as though he had never left. 

"Where'd you go?" you asked him, rubbing at your eyes.

"Just the bathroom," Rudy said, sounding a bit breathless as he stretched, reaching his arm out and resting it on your shoulders. You shifted a bit closer to him.

"Oh," you said. You laid there for a brief second before lifting your head again, resting your chin on your hand. Not knowing what else to really say, you cleared your throat. "Uh, what's that big metal door in your apartment for?"

Rudy shrugged. "Not much. I'm having a little meat locker sorta thing installed."

You furrowed your brows. "That's a little bit of a...weird thing to have."

Rudy simply smiled. "Well, you know how I like my steaks. I thought I'd bring things to the next level." 

Nothing he said felt genuine to you. But you wanted it to. You wanted it to all feel real and natural. "Alright," was all you managed to say, starting to turn over onto your other side so your back would face Rudy.

"Hey...are you okay?" he suddenly asked. His hand found your shoulder. Your jaw tightened just slightly and you fought to keep yourself from stiffening up. You forced a smile, even if you were sure he couldn't even see it.

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just been a long morning. Day. I don't know." 

You were finally coming down from the high of sex with Rudy. It wasn't out of the ordinary, but this time, you didn't feel right still. None of it felt right anymore, like it didn't have meaning. It was like you were fucking a stranger basically. You didn't trust him anymore. And worst of all, through dark eyelashes, you had watched Rudy contemplate above you with a kitchen knife in hand.

_I'm dating a fucking psycho. I have to get the fuck out of this._

* * *

When you were sure Rudy was asleep, you got up, grabbed the knife from the bedside drawer and went for the living room. That was where your phone had been last. You found it against the wall, where Rudy had thrown it. There were some hairline cracks on the screen, but other than that it seemed okay. You dialed one of your closest friends. As it rang, you pulled on a pair of sweat pants near the couch and Rudy's shirt that he had abandoned on the floor, purely because yours was still near the entrance of the bedroom and you didn't want to come any closer to him. Your friend picked up. 

"Hey, (Y/N), what's up-"

"Can I come over to your place for a bit."

"Yeah, yeah, sure-"

You were already grabbing your car keys and quickly walking out the door. As you got into your car and practically floored the gas pedal, you told her everything. You thought you'd have to be holding back tears the whole time as you told her about the box and the obituary and...the way he held the knife above you, genuinely considering, genuinely contemplating. It was like you were in shock--numb to it all. 

When you finally arrived at your friend's place, everything you thought you were supposed to be feeling crashed down on you, like a tidal wave, almost at the exact moment she opened the door and asked "Are you okay?". It was just three words but it sent you over the absolute edge. 

She had you on the couch in a matter of minutes, numerous blankets on top of you and a pint of ice cream sitting on the table--classic break up cure. But this wasn't like any other break up you had before. You didn't even touch the cold pint, you simply sat there, breaking down completely, crying tears you'd been holding back for what felt like hours now. 

"He seemed like such a nice guy," your friend offered a bit softly.

"I know. I know."

You sat there for a moment, forcing full breaths between shorter, shaking ones. Your gaze traveled down to your hands, to the polish on your nails. Rose pink. Bright yellow. Deep purple. Burning orange. Lime green. 

You swallowed a bit dryly. Letting out a trembling exhale, you spoke quietly. "Do you have any nail polish remover?"

She nodded and got up.

The rest of the night smelled of chemicals.

The next morning, when you woke up on the same couch, tangled in blankets, your hand went to your phone. You finally seemed to be waking up at a normal time in the morning. On top of that, you had ten missing calls from Rudy and numerous texts. You stared blankly for a moment before you remembered everything. It was still all real. Not some bad fucked up dream. Since you had nothing better to do and some part of you just wanted to keep tormenting yourself apparently, you filtered through them all.

_where are you?_

_???_

_(Y/N) call me_

_call me right now_

_why arent you picking up?_

_where are you?_

_CALL ME_

_is this about last night? i thought you said you were okay_

_i need to talk to you please answer_

_are you okay?_

_PICK UP THE PHONE_

_im going back to my apartment. i hope youre ok. text me back when you can alright_

"Is he texting you?" suddenly came your friend's voice.

"Yeah. Or at least he did. A lot. I don't think he figured out I'm here otherwise he'd bust down the fucking door. Y'know. Like he did to me." You let out a weighted sigh and shut your phone off, taking little comfort in looking at the black screen before you. 

"That's fucking yikes," she responded, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to the other foot. For a moment, both of your gazes went to the door. Giving a sharp sniff, you moved all the blankets off your body and stood up.

You cleared your throat. "I better leave. If he does figure out I'm here and not responding to him...it...it won't be pretty." 

"Will you be okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. See you later?"

Your friend nodded as you grabbed your car keys off the table in front of the couch and opened the door for you. Her words were lost on your ears as you shrugged her off, gave a cheerful, hollow wave. The smile dropped immediately from your face the minute the door closed and you turned and headed to your car.

You were surprised you didn't crash the car considering how much your mind was racing--how distracted you were. Most of all, you felt uneasy and scared. Even if Rudy was back in his apartment like he said, you felt like something was wrong, something was off. But you had no where to go and everything you owned was back at your apartment. Although you had a destination in mind, it was like you were driving endlessly, wandering. 

Rudy's car wasn't in the building parking lot and you found yourself breathing out a sigh of relief. You weren't ready to talk to him and you didn't ever want to if you had the choice. You almost wished he'd just disappear. You hated to admit it to yourself, but you were afraid of him, afraid of how fast he'd become a dangerous stranger. You almost tripped on your way up the stairs to your apartment. The door was still slightly open from the night before. It wasn't too late to turn back yet. 

You took in a breath and pushed open the door. How was it possible to have something so familiar to you seem so strange and weird--like you'd never been here before. As you stepped in through the door, you shifted your keys between your fingers, like makeshift brass knuckles. It felt like the equivalent of walking into a dark alleyway for some shifty shortcut. 

The room before you was empty. Then the door shut behind you. You gasped and went to turn, but you were quickly greeted by an arm around your throat and another aligned with your chest, locking the previous arm tight against your windpipe. Out of shock you were motionless for a few seconds before you began to struggle. Desperately, you attempted to wrestle your way out of the iron grip. Black spots were already dancing in your vision as you gasped for air. 

"Just let go..." whispered Rudy into your ear, not bothering to tighten his grip. He had you where he wanted you. There was no need for anymore force. Of all of his victims, he found the ones that struggled the least were the ones that had trusted him and in your case maybe even loved him. 

Eventually, you stopped struggling. Your keys and phone fell from your hands as you fell limp in his arms, completely unconscious. Rudy let out a bit of a grunt as he quickly hoisted you up over his shoulder, securing his arm over your waist. He closed the door on his way out. 

Obviously he had moved his car from the parking lot, hiding it near the corner of the building where the service trucks came through. Rudy already knew the job was getting pretty sloppy, but he didn't care. He popped the trunk and everything else came naturally to him. The duct tape, the music, the very routine to his apartment. Then, once he was there, through the cold metal door, you were his. Now that he was working in his own environment he found his confidence. So there he sat and waited, watching you.

It took you about ten minutes to come to and once you did you wish you hadn't. You wish he'd tightened his grip and just snapped your neck then and there. Fear and adrenaline pounded through you for a second and you went to jerk your hand up but found it was pinned to some sort of metal board by an iron restraint, along with all your other limbs. Your breath quickened and you strained for a good few seconds, forgetting for those blissful seconds about your ex-boyfriend simply sitting there, against the wall, watching with his arms folded over his chest. 

It took you only a few more seconds to realize exactly where you were. 

"Hold on, don't strain too hard. This doesn't have to hurt you..." he approached you, casually taking a full syringe from the small table next to you. He flicked the needle and looked up at you. "Unless you want to hurt." 

You opened your mouth, ready to scream, one of your first instincts. Rudy quickly injected the syringe into your neck and you flinched, your head turning to the side as you squeezed your eyes shut, closing your mouth.

"Don't scream," he told you, cupping his hand over your cheek. "It's pointless. No one will hear except us--this room's got a _mean_ echo." 

His fingers traced over your cheek. He almost expected you to lean into his palm like you always did. Instead, you quickly jerked your head to the side to get away from him. He stared at you a moment before giving a bit of an awkward laugh.

"I noticed your nail polish is gone. I thought you liked it."

"Why?" you slurred out suddenly. "Why are you doing this?" It was a complete struggle just to get out the words and you couldn't figure out how long it took you to say them. Everything felt heavy, like you were being weighed down. You could barely move anything. You couldn't even feel really. You were sure you were terrified. 

Rudy's smile dropped very quickly and his expression darkened. "Why are _you_ doing this? I was happy with you. I'm sure I was. I wanted you for longer, (Y/N). But you had to go and speed this whole goddamn thing up. I really did like you. I _desired_ you and I had you and it's all your fault that this is all going down the fucking drain." His voice dripped with pure venom. "Goddamn it, (Y/N), God _fucking_ damn it. We could have kept this up. All of this." His hand went to his forehead for a moment and he turned his back to you. "But you've seen me. I _let_ you see me. And you can't live after that. I have to kill you now and you probably think I'm a monster for that. But I can't help it--I'm a neat monster. Neat monsters _don't get caught._ I'm not going to let this little slip up bring me down. No. I'm not finished here in this city."

He turned around again and his eyes met yours. He could tell the drugs were already taking full affect. Your pupils were dilated and you looked as though you were on the verge of drifting to sleep, soft puffs of heated visible air coming from your lips. 

"Rudy" couldn't help but press his head against yours. His hand slipped under yours for a brief second and he forced your fingers to interlock with his own freezing one. His other hand crept over to the table by the side of slab he had you secured to. He picked up a fine, but wickedly sharp blade. 

"You did this," he whispered to you. "You fucking did this." 

His lips met your own as he lifted the blade to your throat, and sliced deeply.


End file.
